


At War

by Jamie_Anya



Series: Hiddlesworth's Short Stories [10]
Category: Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M, alternate universe - world war one, emotional fic, italics are chris' letters to tom, violence - not too graphic i hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2329850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamie_Anya/pseuds/Jamie_Anya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christopher is at war of blood, bullets and decaying bodies. He wonders if he's ever going back home to his beloved Thomas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At War

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. 
> 
> This story is composed spontaneously, and in a hurry. I'm so sorry.

_Do you still remember the first day we met?_   
_You smiled so brilliantly at me, with your beautiful eyes that seized my heart wholly._

He cried out, the pain was unbearable.

The noises were deafening. Bellows of guns and explosion; the splatters of dirt, blood and flesh. The laughing and raining night sky, flashes of thunder glistened above where he flew off to. Unable to crawl to safety as the noises went dull. Or perhaps it was him that turned deaf.

"Christopher...!" screamed a fellow soldier, he winced at the terrifying howls of shells and pitching bullets. He scrambled through the field, ushering at his running men to find a safe place to cower. But trembled at the horrifying sight his young friend was in.

"...God!" Christopher wailed.

_You said to me once, if we can ever be together._   
_I said, 'Yes, of course'._   
_But you saw right through me, of my hesitation._   
_You know, it would never be._   
_Not in this life._

The war was written out as an honorable thing back home. Yes, it was. Indeed. But the soldiers who were sent to the ghastly 'No Man's Land' suffered the most. With spills of many innocent young blood, with many sacrifices made - all questions were answered. Christopher was carried back to the nearest trenches, tended by the only medic in the company while the others brought out everything they got to fend off the incoming enemies. The medic frantically trying his best to close up his wounds, using all of his morphines to save a dying friend. Where was his leg and arm? What about the part of his skin that supposed to contain his gushing guts?

Christopher could see the pleading features of his friends and the soldier, his idol the Lieutenant, who saved him. He stopped screaming by then, his cerulean eyes were losing their colour.

It was useless to reassure himself that he would be all right.

He told his frantic heart, he had his letter ready. Safe in his pocket.

All he needed to do, was to ask someone to give it to his beloved. Hurry, let 'him' know, never waste anymore time!

Ah.

_I am so sorry, my dear._

Christopher shed a tear, closing his weary eyes. Silencing all sound, breathing his last. His heart stopped beating. How frightening it sounded... to leave his beloved all alone. 'He' was waiting for Christopher to come home, he would wonder why he didn't come back and bring all the glory.

Would his beloved still love him, is Christopher went home disabled?

_But in the next life, i am sure..._   
_...I am very sure. We will be together again._   
_For as long as we can._

Thomas dropped to his knees. His crying voice unheard, his body was shaking, Christopher's letter fluttered to the wooden floor. His sisters asked him what was wrong, but they caught the sight of the abandoned letter - someone very dear had recently passed. It was so painful, this yearning heart. He cried, and cried, and cried. His beloved Christopher died on 4th November, 1918. His letter reached to Thomas when the Armstice was signed.

Just one week more.

Why was fate cruel to them?

_But do not cry, Thomas._   
_Please curve a smile for me, a small one will do._   
_Next time. I promise you, we'll meet again._

_With love, Christopher._

"...Christopher," Thomas cried, chanting his beloved's name like a spell. The war separated the two lovers, and one of them was never coming home. 


End file.
